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Chicago boasts a diverse set of sandwich shops, ranging from ethnic to institutional to gimmicky.

Thursday Feb 26, 2004.     By Larry Majewski

Food Feed

Somewhere along the line, Chicago got pigeonholed as a slice of pizza and hot dog kind of town. I blame Jim Belushi. Truth is, Chicagoans eat sandwiches, too, and occasionally those sandwiches even have avocado on them. Chicago boasts a diverse set of sandwich shops, ranging from ethnic to institutional to gimmicky. Consider these local establishments in lieu of the big chains. Is Jared really a sandwich expert because he’s got a slimmer waistline? That’s like having someone fresh out of the Betty Ford Clinic telling you where you should drink.

Chicago Bagel Authority
Potato: Various Bags of Chips
Pickle: No
This is a sandwich shop first, a bagel joint second. Though there are a baker’s dozen of different bagel varieties, the menu boasts upwards of 65 sandwiches. It has already worked out the most favorable combinations of bagel, meat, cheese, vegetable, and condiment for you, eliminating assembly line ordering and encouraging you to eat an item as is. Chicago Bagel Authority charges 25 cents for straying from the menu. Sandwiches are steamed, a technique that softens the bagel, melts the cheese (if applicable), and warms the sandwich all the way through. This provides a succulent alternative to the more barbaric methods of toasting or grilling. In many ways, Chicago Bagel Authority belongs right off-campus somewhere, dominating the lunch scene in College Town, USA. The inside is decorated in mid-‘80s hodgepodge and Ohio State memorabilia.

Manny's Diner
Potato: latkes (potato pancakes)
Pickle: Yes
It’s tough to find a good chopped liver sandwich these days. The same goes for cow tongue. You’ll find both at Manny’s Diner, a near South Side fixture since 1942. That’s because this cafeteria-style eatery does not compromise its traditional Jewish diner roots.

On one hand, that means you can expect Gefelte fish on the menu and cigars for sale at the register. On the other, that means dueling meat carvers stack the corned beef sandwiches taller than Shaggy and Scooby Doo on a late night fridge raid. Liberally cured with salt, slightly marbled, sliced tissue paper thin, and served on an onion roll, corned beef of this quality begs to be eaten for lunch, not as part of some breakfast skillet. During peak hours, Manny’s flings sandwiches at you before you even order. To the uninitiated this can be intimidating, but to the regulars this ensures that the line keeps moving.

Berghoff Cafe
Potato: homemade German chips
Pickle: Yes
The Berghoff can draw a direct culinary line all the way back to turn of the century Chicago. This institution has been serving hearty Teutonic food and beer in its dining hall longer than any other restaurant in the city.

To accommodate its bustling lunch crowd’s desire for quicker meals and to kill the wait for a table, Berghoff Cafe opened an addendum in the cellar in October. Best described as a European cafeteria, the menu does wander into salad, pasta, panini, pizza, and bratwurst territory. Still, it’s best to stick to the straightforward “warm sandwiches.” With tray in hand, watch as corned beef, roast beef, roast turkey, or black forest ham is sliced right in front of you. True to German utilitarianism, the sandwich consists simply of bread (I suggest rye), cheese, and meat (Dusseldorf mustard is optional). Wash it down with Berghoff’s signature root beer.

Calliope Cafe
Potato: thin homemade waffle chips
Pickle: Yes
When Calliope Cafe decided to bill itself as “a unique sandwich shop,” it must have been referring to its interior decoration, a sort of “Trading Spaces” meets Willy Wonka.

On the whole, the menu items aren’t unique, inasmuch as they possess some interesting ingredient twists. The chicken salad sandwich, a lunchtime staple, finds rebirth as the pineapple chicken salad sandwich. The grilled salmon club has the novel, yet strangely appropriate, addition of hickory bacon. This raises the issue of pork products in sandwiches; it generally comes pulled or in the form of bacon or ham. Rarely do you see tender slices of pork loin as found in the orange BBQ pork loin sandwich. This is a testament to the quality of ingredients used by owner Tim Bruce: meats and vegetables are fresh, everything else is made from scratch. Perhaps in this fast-food culture of ours, actually waiting for a hand-made sandwich to be prepared is, at least, kind of unique.

Mrs. Levy's Delicatessen
Potato: ruffled potato chips
Pickle: Yes
Hanging celebrity photographs is an old New York City restaurateur trick that adds delicatessen street cred. Mrs. Levy’s walls run the usual macro to micro celebrity gauntlet. That means for every photo of Ronald Reagan, there’s one of Bozo the Clown; for every Michael Jordan, there’s a Willie Gault; for every Oprah, there’s a local weatherman. But 8x10 glossies don’t make sandwiches; those have to stand on their own merit. Mrs. Levy’s offers a menu with delectable derivatives of deli standards. For instance, there are four different Reubens. If that’s not enough variety for you, choose from one of 11 sandwiches named after local business big wigs, regulars who have frequented this Sears Tower location over the past twenty years. The Normie Finkel might not sound appetizing, but the smoked beef brisket, pastrami, Dusseldorf mustard, and Monterey jack cheese on an onion roll suggests otherwise.

Panes Bread Cafe
Potato: potato chips
Pickle: No
The word “fresh” gets thrown around quite liberally in sandwich circles. Over-used in commercials and print ads, its very meaning has been undermined. Luckily, Panes Bread Café re-empowers the word “fresh.” To begin with, the “white or wheat” choice has been transformed into a full-blown conundrum with homemade breads baked daily. To name a few, their oven produces rosemary olive oil bread, tomato foccacia, and three types of sourdough. The selection of sandwiches is equally diverse, from the simple atun blanco (white tuna salad) to the spicy polo diablo (chicken, pepper-jack cheese and spicy mayo). The entire menu is decidedly Spanish-influenced. These are the kind of sandwiches you could expect your mom to make from scratch if she lived on a farm…and that farm happened to be located somewhere on the Mediterranean.

Chicago Flat Sammies
Potato: homemade kettle chips (choice of toppings)
Pickle: Yes
Native Chicagoans have built-in defense mechanisms that protect them from tourist trap eateries. The fact that Chicago Flat Sammies resides amidst a souvenir shop, a tourist information counter, and a tour bus ticket booth on Michigan Avenue makes it that much more of a dubious option.

Sure, it’s a madhouse in the summer, but this is not merely a function of auspicious location. The six signature “sammiches” would draw crowds in any part of town. Ingredients are pressed between a slender, quasi-French roll and baked in an original Faulds Oven that dates back to the 1940s. This technique produces the quintessential tuna melt and reinvents the Italian beef. Despite all this “flat” talk, Flat Sammies are counterproductive to that flat stomach you might be working on. In that case, you might as well complement your “sammich” with homemade kettle chips that can be topped with bleu cheese, chili cheese, or top-secret atomic sauce.